Forever Changing
by SiriusFan13
Summary: After centuries frozen in time in the Grimhold, how does Veronica deal with the changes time has made in Balthazar?  And really, in the end, what sort of changes truly matter?
1. Veronica

**Disclaimer: I do not own "Sorcerer's Apprentice" or any of its incredible characters. I really wish I owned Balthazar, but unfortunately Veronica beat me to him. A pity.**

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**Forever Changing**

_"We are not the same persons this year as last; nor are those we love. It is a happy chance if we, changing, continue to love a changed person."  
-William Somerset Maugham

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**Veronica**

She watched him sleep, marveling at how little he'd changed in over a thousand years. His face was the same as the one that had been etched into her memory. Merlin's spell had given them that much at least. She gently traced her fingers over the new, faint lines in his face. Lines made from such repeated expressions that even magic couldn't stop them in its halt of time's touch. Worry and stress lines gracing his face and making him appear just a touch older than she remembered, though more beautiful in her eyes as well. They spoke of the care and passion that he had never lost in all that time. All those years that she hadn't realized had passed until he'd gently broken it to her last night, and she'd realized that those faint, unexpected lines had come from centuries of lonely pain. It saddened her to notice that his face bore no lines from laughter. Even in sleep, she could see how he had suffered all these years. It didn't really matter to her how young or old he was. He could look as old as Merlin for all she cared as long as he was with her. Still, with all other changes around her, it was nice looking into his eyes as she had last night, or watching his peaceful sleep and seeing the same man she'd fallen in love with so long ago.

She knew he would be different now. She would need to prepare herself for that. Physical stasis or not, all men were affected by time and life circumstance. Her Balthazar had always reacted strongly to the world around him. And, though he of course had said nothing of it during their first night alone together in so long, she knew that his life had been a personal hell for him. A terribly lonely one.

One change already. He'd told her bits of his solitary search. And she'd noticed that as the stories progressed, the number of friends he'd had diminished. For as long as five hundred years, Balthazar had had no friends. No one to care about him. No one whom he'd have to watch age and die as he lived unaging. He'd learned to avoid people. Such a change. Her Balthazar had always loved people. Loved being around them. Talking. Joking. Laughing. He'd made friends easily, cared about them deeply. Certainly, he had been different in battle. As one of Merlin's best, he was a truly fearsome sorcerer. Deadly. Another man entirely. But he more than made up for it during their rare moments of freedom. He'd always had such a warm passion for life. And he'd always believed deeply that love would save the world. There had been an unquenchable light in his eyes that she had marveled at, even in the worst of times. It had been one of his greatest strengths.

It was hard for her to see how much that light had dimmed. Not died. Balthazar was far too resilient, and his kindness and passion were too much the core of his being. But there was a touch of bitterness about him now. A dark cynicism that had occasionally brushed the surface while they'd talked. Those changes were hard for her to watch, because she couldn't imagine what sort of pain could do that to him. It would take a long time to draw that light out of him again, and she knew that he'd never be perfectly healed, even by her. Some wounds left scars. They could fade over time, but they never quite went away.

And then there were other parts of him had died a long time ago.

His unwavering trust, for instance. He would never get that back. He'd been betrayed too deeply. It would be a miracle if he ever truly trusted anyone again other than herself.

_And that apprentice of his_, she amended, smiling faintly. She would be eternally grateful to that boy. For more things than he could ever know. For saving Balthazar's life, apparently more than just this once. For refusing to lock him in the Grimhold. For defending them both, even though he didn't know her, not only because it was the right thing to do, but because Balthazar's well-being depended on it. And there were other smaller, though just as significant things.

She had noted the subtle changes in Balthazar's voice and expression when he spoke of his apprentice. The light glowed intensely in his eyes in those moments. He spoke with a fierce pride, as though the boy were his own son, which in retrospect, wasn't surprising. From the youth's actions the night before, she could tell that David saw Balthazar as more than just a mentor. She had only once before seen a bond like theirs between master and apprentice. And that had been between Balthazar and his own master, Merlin. It warmed her to see his own apprentice return that same unspoken respect—even love—for him. He made Balthazar smile. Brought him back to his old self as much as was humanly possible at this point without even realizing what kind of miracle he was achieving. For that she was deeply grateful.

She ran her fingers lightly over his face, relaxed in sleep. Not relishing the pain he'd try to mask from her again when his eyes opened. He'd taken a vicious beating the night before. Burns, wounds, broken bones. And an overall weakness from his attacks and defenses. From pulling Morgana into himself and holding her there as she fought to kill him from the inside.

For those long moments of death when she was certain she'd lost him.

The only energy he'd had left in his body when it was all over was what David had given him to restart his heart. He had not told his apprentice how weak he was when the boy had left them to celebrate with his own love. Balthazar had just left his apprentice to his naive belief that his master was now fine. And, as Balthazar had said, the boy had earned a night of freedom. He would come back soon enough. From his voice, she could tell he had faith in David. Their bond was close enough that he could miraculously trust in that. And, she knew that when the boy returned, Balthazar would never let David know how badly injured and close to death he still had been when his apprentice had left them. He would never let the boy feel any guilt over this rash decision to leave. He was young. They both clearly remembered how it had been to be young and in love. And from his smile and gentle touch of her face. The way he'd almost reverently put the necklace around her throat that he'd carried with him for so long. The way he'd watched her every movement... she realized that he was still as in love with her as ever. Another reason she had been so shocked at how much time had passed. How could any man love one person so passionately for so long? She wouldn't have expected that from anybody. Even from him. It was impossible. Though one of Balthazar's most impressive skills had been achieving the impossible.

After that gentle moment-the almost reverent kiss he'd stolen-they'd attempted to move, and the full extent of Balthazar's injuries began rear its ugly head. Even _he_ hadn't known that he was in such bad shape. She had healed what wounds she could before her own strength began to falter, then carefully supported him as they made their way back to his apprentice's training room to rest. The temporary cot he'd set up in the corner had been too small for both of them, so she'd thrown together a bed of blankets on the floor, ignoring Balthazar's weak protests that she could use the cot. He was ridiculous to think she'd allow even that small amount of space to come between them. Not now. Not ever again. Anyway, she was used to the old straw pallets from so long ago. His time in the ever changing world had made some Old World details, still so fresh in her mind, slip his. He would be teaching her about his modern world. She would be reminding him of their past. She liked that thought.

But first thing when he awoke, she would need to heal the those few injuries remaining that she was skilled enough to manage, hoping that the rest would mend more quickly as a result. Trying as best she could not to react to the scars that had torn up his body during a millennium of war in which he had been the only remaining line of defense. Balthazar against Morgana's scattered army. One man against the world. Alone.

She closed her eyes a moment, clearing those images from her mind. Just feeling the familiar face beneath her fingers. Knowing that the same heart beat within his battered chest. Comforted by how she had seen last night that through all of the inevitable changes time had dealt, that he hadn't changed at his core. For better or for worse, it was still her Balthazar. They could deal with the rest later.

Together.

For now she would just enjoy the warmth of being near him, nestled in beside him, her head on his chest, listening to the beat of his heart.

Comforted by its steady rhythm, she fell back to sleep.

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_Author's Note: This is how lame I truly am. After watching the movie just over a week ago, I went and paid to see it again. I also found the Junior Novelization and bought that (Surprisingly good. I don't know if the guy had access to deleted scenes or if he just REALLY knew the characters well enough to manage this, but there are lines that were not in the movie but are completely IC. Made me quite happy.)_

_Anyway, getting past the random note there, I couldn't help but wonder how Veronica would view Balthazar after all of that time for him to change. Think about how much a person you haven't seen in years changes. Imagine what 1,300 years would do. So, this is what came of it. I hope you enjoy._

_As always, thanks so much for reading. Reviews would be appreciated._

_Dewa mata._

_Sirius  
_


	2. Balthazar

**Forever Changing**

_"Time, which changes people, does not alter the image we have retained of them."  
-Marcel Proust

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**Balthazar**

He'd never fully known how the Grimhold worked. He understood its mechanics. How to "run it" as Dave would say. But once inside? They'd had no guide. Only need.

He'd assumed that it would be like the urn, only with no time limit. You sat in there, bored out of your mind, until someone let you out.

So, when Morgana was dead. When Dave had left. When Veronica had managed to stabilize the still weak, erratic beating of his heart. When they were finally _safe_... he hadn't thought to explain. Even when they'd slowly and painfully made their way back to the lab, and Veronica had asked where they were, he'd only replied, "America," and smiled gently at her surprise and confusion. Of course she didn't know where that was. And the lights and sounds and a million other small things that he'd become numb to over the years would all be so new to her. How would she have known any of this? He hadn't thought of that, but it was logical. "I'll explain later," he added, his voice exhausted. "There's much to tell."

She'd simply nodded, understanding that the simple act of talking was draining him of his remaining strength.

It wasn't until they'd been safe in the lab—after she'd made a bed of blankets for them, resting him gently against the pillow from his small cot—that he'd begun to realize.

"How did we get here?" she'd asked.

He'd blinked at her, not immediately comprehending the question. His usually sharp mind sluggish from the exertion of the past few days. "Here?"

"America," Veronica had clarified. "This land. It must have taken time to travel."

He watched her a moment longer, his confusion matching hers. "Of course it did. This was one of the hardest places to reach. Only recently did it become possible to travel such a distance easily. I had hoped I'd find him in Europe. The Prime Merlinian. We're far from home. It took years to even travel—"

"Years?" Her eyes had widened. "But just last night..." Her voice trailed off as she noticed a long, faded scar on his arm. She'd stared at it as though trying to process something. Then she reached out and touched it, running her fingers along the pale mar in his skin. "Morgana gave this to you." Her eyes were questioning as she spotted another, more recent scar near it. Much newer. This one only a few centuries old. This scar had also faded with time, yet she'd never seen that before either. Her eyes met his. "When...?"

And he'd understood then. Abruptly. Painfully. She didn't know. She hadn't been awake for those centuries as he'd thought. He was grateful. She'd been spared his torture. But he was also terrified. She didn't realize how old he'd grown. How much he'd had to change to survive in this world for so long. How different he would be.

"Balthazar?"

Quietly, he'd replied, "You weren't the only one I sealed in the Grimhold. There were others after. Long after." He ran his own fingers along the scar, allowing his to brush hers. "This scar was a gift from a witch in this country when I sealed her 400 years ago." His eyes met hers. "She was the first one I caught. When I realized I might as well be doing _something _with my time if I wasn't succeeding at my quest. The last I trapped was Horvath about a century back."

"Four hundred years..." she repeated numbly.

He tenderly brushed a lock of dark hair from her face. "It's been a long time." He paused, then hesitantly added, "I'm much older than you remember." He tried to smile at her, but it didn't erase the worry in his eyes. The worry that he would lose her again. But he had to leave that choice to her. Softly, very softly, he said, "It's been over a thousand years, Veronica. I'm over a thousand years old now."

She said nothing, studying him in the weak light and shadows of the lab. She raised her hand, her fingers brushing his face. Running along it. Discovering new lines that he, himself, had begun noticing years ago when he'd realized that the spell protecting him didn't guard against all of time's changes. When he'd understood that it hadn't completely frozen his aging, only slowed it a great deal.

"It's been a long time," he whispered again. "I've missed you. So much." He'd closed his eyes, then, so she couldn't see the pain. He wanted to protect her from that much at least.

"I didn't realize." Her voice was hushed. "You've been searching... _fighting_ all this time?"

He managed a small nod.

"How many of us—?"

"I was the last until I found Dave." His eyes opened to meet hers. "Until we freed you. Those remaining few we knew died long ago. They took many Morganians down with them. For the past six hundred years or so, I've been working to take on the rest." He winced at that number, for the first time processing how long that had really been.

"Alone." It wasn't a question.

"Yes."

They were silent for a long time before he tentatively spoke again. Saying words that he didn't want to say. But if she hadn't realized back in the park... She had the right to be free to live her own life. "Veronica," he said quietly. "I've changed in all that time. I've changed a great deal." He turned his face away. If he met her eyes, he'd never be able to speak the words. "I'm not the man you remember, Veronica. The man you expected to find when you were freed."

Silence. Dead silence. He could only hear the beat of his heart, still weak, but pounding in his chest.

She finally broke the silence. "What are you saying, Balthazar?"

His pained response came as a whisper. It was all he could manage. "I mean you don't have to stay here. With me. Just because I freed you doesn't mean you have to stay. I'll teach you what you need to understand, and you can leave if you want. Make a new life for yourself. You aren't bound to me."

"My Love..."

"I'm not "your love"... "your Balthazar" anymore," he responded a touch too sharply. A bitterness in his voice. "I'm not him. That's what I'm trying to tell you. I've changed too much. I won't drag you down with me. I love you too much to force you to stay."

"Balthazar." She raised her hand to his face again, gently turning it, so he had no choice but to look at her, his pained eyes meeting hers. "Why did you hunt so long to find the Prime Merlinian? Why did you protect the Grimhold so well? Just to keep your oath to Merlin? To destroy Morgana?"

"No, of course not."

"To save the world, then? To protect mankind? Were those your only reasons?"

"No."

"Then _why_, Balthazar? Think about it. Morgana was sealed, which was the original plan. So was Horvath. You could have stopped. Could have let the Prime Merlinian come to you. He would have eventually. You know that. If you were meant to train him, he'd have found you... it just would have taken longer. You could have lived your life until then. Why did you waste it searching?"

"It wasn't a waste," he responded sharply. Then his voice softened, and he added more gently, "I did it to free you."

She smiled. "To free me. For over a thousand years, you fought alone to free me. You haven't changed, Balthazar. No man other than you could love so intensely for so long. No other man after being forced to wait so many years for this apprentice could still care so deeply about him. Without hating or blaming him for making making you wait. No other man would fight alone just because he doesn't give up. Because he won't break any promise, even after so many years. Balthazar, no one would have faulted you for stopping. You know that. And any other man would have." She brushed away the single tear that had finally escaped his careful composure. "And what other man, after all of that, would not only give me the option to leave, but still offer to make the transition into this world easier for me no matter my choice?" She smiled warmly. "_That_ is the man I fell in love with. You haven't changed in any way that matters, Balthazar. Even your young apprentice can see what sort of man you are. Why can't you?"

"Veronica." He breathed her name, hope finally glimmering in his eyes again.

"I'm staying right here, my love. Because I choose to. I _want_ to. We can face any other changes together."

If she had meant to say more, he'd never know. He drew her toward him at that moment, his face meeting hers, stealing a small, soft kiss. No deep display of passion. It wasn't needed.

For now, all they needed was each other.

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_Author's Note: So, I decided there needed to be a Balthazar chapter. Especially since I started thinking of the comment I had in the Veronica chapter about Balthazar gently breaking the 1000 years of searching that had passed to her. Thus... chapter 2. Even though the fic was marked as complete. I think I'm going to keep it marked as such. It seems like the fic should be done. But if another fic-appropriate plot bunny attacks me Monty Python style (as this one did), it could possibly be updated again. If I find I'm updating it a bunch, I'll switch it to "in progress"._

_Anyway, just a quick thank you again for reading this. Reviews would, of course, be greatly appreciated._

_Dewa mata._

_Sirius:)  
_


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